


towards the sunlight

by MegaSheep



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Magical Wyvern Rides™, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Star Gazing, just a lil mild spice™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaSheep/pseuds/MegaSheep
Summary: The night before they announce their engagement to the world, Claude and Byleth share a moment alone, away from the Almyran palace and away from prying eyes.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 106





	towards the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doylesmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/gifts).



The Almyran palace gardens were beautiful at night, breathtaking in every sense of the word. She sat at a table nestled into the bushes, two porcelain cups in front of her and a hot pot of water waiting to have tea dropped into it. Dark red roses gathered close around her; poppies had lined her walkway to the hidden table; at the entrance were flush pink tulips but with their bulbs turned upside down. Apparently they were native to Almyra and very hard to grow anywhere else, which explained why she never saw them at the monastery.

She craned her neck and looked towards the sky. The stars twinkled in the ocean of velvet black, speckled around the bright moon. The note that had been tacked to the door of her chambers was ominous at best.

_Meet me in the gardens at midnight. Come alone._

_\- C_

Really, it was quite dramatic considering why she was here in the first place. Ever since the Almyran army had saved Fodlan’s forces’ hides, the bonds between the two continued to grow stronger by the day. She and Claude had yet to be wed—officially—and had both agreed to wait to announce their intent to the world once the formal peace treaties were sealed and over with. That had happened earlier that evening, signed with both their own and their advisors’ names, the ink still fresh and the seal on the parchment having dried only hours before.

A small blot crossed over the moon and if Byleth didn’t know any better she would think it was her eyes, tired and weary and playing tricks on her. 

But she did know better. 

An ash-white wyvern circled down, decreasing in altitude until she saw the very familiar sash tied snugly around its neck, dark gold fabric with wide stitches of emerald green.

The leaves and petals of the many foreign plants quivered under the beating of the wyvern’s wings. They swayed to and fro and then trembled downwards as the creature landed softly on a swath of dry grass. Byleth pulled a small canvas pouch out of her thin coat and tugged the strings of it open. The crisp scent of pine needle tea wafted upwards just as the king of Almyra himself dismounted his wyvern.

The confidence he’d always had pulled his shoulders down and his head up. His eyes, green as the stitches on the wyvern’s sash, green as the lushest forests in the world, glinted with amusement as he locked eyes with her.

“You’re here!” Claude said, dusting off his hands. “Even with that cryptic note? I could have been an assassin.”

Byleth dropped the pine needles into the pot. “I’d know your handwriting anywhere,” she said, replacing the lid. “It’s dreadful. You’re the reason I need reading glasses.”

Dark brows rose in what Byleth knew was fake-offense. “You wound me!”

Byleth rose from her seat. “Good. Maybe I’ll get convicted for treason then, your majesty.”

Claude’s grin was razor-sharp as he stepped closer. “Oh, the guards wouldn’t do that, _your grace._ ”

Another step closer. The scent of cloves and something earthy enveloped Byleth. “Maybe not, but I’d still like to see them try.”

Claude’s arms wound around her. “Please, no. My entire royal guard would have to be replaced. I’ve spent too much time gathering people I can trust.” He looked down at her, pulling her closer. Heat spread where their chests were pressed together. “Oh. You made tea?”

Byleth glanced back at the table. “Well, I figured an ominous note arranging a midnight meeting warranted tea, yeah?” She turned her gaze back on him. His hair, she noticed, was mussed from the wind. A few more strands fell in front of his face than usual. She pushed one back behind his ear. “Unless you really are planning to assassinate me,” she added, dryly.

The laugh that spilled from Claude’s lips was genuine, not the clipped _ha ha’s_ of their academy days, nor the polite chuckling when he was goading nobles in good fun. It was an unpredictable melody, soft and so _real._

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Teach.”

Byleth felt the itch of a smile twitching her lips. “If you don’t stop calling me that,” she said, “I’ll divorce you.”

“My love, you’ll have to marry me first,” he pointed out. “Officially.”

Oh yes, both of their groups of advisors would have a field day if they found out that the King of Almyra and the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fodlan had an impromptu ceremony months ago, surrounded by only a few close friends as witnesses. She could only imagine Seteth’s reaction if he were to find out; the poor man would have some sort of stress aneurysm.

She sighed fondly and brought both of her hands to cup Claude’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. His were mildly chapped from soaring through the skies but still warm, as warm as he was beneath her palms and as warm as the back of his neck where her fingers tangled in his hair. Her pinky grazed the edge of the necklace he’d started wearing since their promise to one another. At the end of it, tucked below the fabric of his shirt was the ring her father had given her, and then she to Claude.

Calloused hands, worn from knocking arrows and tuning bows, slid up her torso and caressed the soft skin of her neck. She shivered at the contact and they stayed like that for many moments, moving against each other, pulling and pushing and moving _closer._ If Byleth had a heartbeat she was sure that it would be tripping over itself.

It was when she slid her hand beneath his shirt that he pulled away. His tanned skin was flush, the shells of his ears a washed-out pink in the moonlight. “As much as I _love_ where this is going, I’m gonna have to stop you there. I have a surprise for you.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes. He grinned back in response. She observed, “You have your scheming face on.”

“That’s just how I look.” He pulled away from her and turned, face craned towards the sky. He pinched his index finger and thumb together and blew, whistling shrilly. From above came a hoarse cry and the unmistakable sound of powerful wings. Another wyvern circled down and soon it was on the ground, right beside Claude’s.

From what she could tell, this one was more yellow in color, akin to a dry wheatfield, and narrower than his. Byleth came to stand beside Claude. “A wyvern?” she asked.

“Still know how to ride?”

She smirked. “Of course. I had a great mentor, after all.”

Claude winked at her. Being a mercenary, she had never ridden a wyvern herself until she had been appointed professor at the monastery. There had never been any need for it since horses suited her just fine. Her first time on one had been exhilarating, terrifying—an experience that sent her blood roaring in her ears and her hands and feet tingling. It was, in a word, incredible. Claude had taken it upon himself to give her all the pointers she needed back then. 

Now, she was fairly sure it had just been an excuse to spend time with her.

_“It’s like riding a horse,” he’d said._

_“A horse with wings, and with scales. You’re confusing a wyvern for a pegasus.”_

_“What’s wrong with the scales?”_

_“Nothing! Just don’t compare a wyvern to a horse when they’re nothing like horses.”_

She approached the creature and held out the flat of her palm. The wyvern regarded her with narrow eyes and pressed its nose against her skin, whuffing wetly. She’d always found wyverns harder to read than horses, but this one seemed especially stone-faced.

“She looks like you,” Claude said from somewhere behind her.

Byleth moved her hand along the wyvern’s cheek and rubbed the rough patch of scales there gently. “How so?” The wyvern closed her eyes and nuzzled against her, a rumble-hiss vibrating her throat. Nothing in her face betrayed at all how she was feeling.

“Stoic,” Claude hummed. He stepped beside her and regarded the wyvern with a keen eye. “Hard to read.”

Byleth smacked him on the arm. “Hush,” she said. The wyvern cracked open one gleaming eye and seemed to glare at Claude. Byleth stroked up towards the crown of her head. The wyvern again made that strange rumble-hiss sound. It wasn’t an unhappy noise.

“Is this your surprise?” she asked.

“Part of it,” Claude admitted.

Byleth withdrew her hand from the wyvern and arched an eyebrow at him. “And the rest?”

Claude grinned. “That would ruin the mystery.” He moved to his own wyvern and hopped on. His eyes roved over her body for a brief moment. “Will you be warm enough?”

Byleth looked down at her attire—a loose-fitting coat, plain trousers, dark brown boots—and then looked back at Claude. “It’s Almyra,” she stated. “It’s not nearly as cold as Fodlan and again, you haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“I guess you’re right,” Claude snickered.

She moved to the side of her wyvern and placed her arms on the leather saddle that sat on her back. With a small jump, she pulled herself up the rest of the way with her arms and then swung her leg over. The saddle was neatly stitched at the edges with coarse black thread. She ran her fingers over it as she looked at the seat, embroidered with intricate designs, swirling around each other and coalescing into flowers.

Then, she remembered the tea.

Byleth cast her gaze towards the abandoned table, pine-needle tea no doubt over-steeped by now. She could only imagine some poor palace attendant happening upon the scene: abandoned cups and kettle, blown back flowers where the wyverns had landed, no one in sight. That could cause a mild uproar.

As if reading her mind, Claude crossed over to the table in a couple of long strides and plucked the stoneware set from it, depositing them neatly into a nearby bush. “Problem solved,” he said and went to mount his own wyvern.

Byleth took the leather reins, feeling the weight of them in her palms.

“No racing this time,” Claude said, securing himself on his saddle.

In unison, they kicked their wyverns gently on the sides, urging them towards, wings flapping. The greenery around them bowed at the gusts of wind the wings created and soon, the ground shrunk below them.

Wind rushed past her ears in an urgent hiss, the sudden decrease in pressure causing her hearing to be momentarily muffled. Byleth looked to her side where Claude guided his wyvern to fly beside her. He flashed a toothy grin at her and she felt the corners of her mouth uptick.

Many didn’t know how gorgeous of a country Almrya was. She could vaguely remember visiting with her father and other mercenaries when she was very young, but she couldn’t recall it being like this: Small clusters of villages huddled together, lights flickering warmly in stone-trimmed windows. Miles of dirt mounds bleeding into sparse fields of plants and wildlife. Mountains in the distance that they were steered towards.

She urged her wyvern a bit faster, and the creature complied, letting loose a cry and beating its wings harder. She could feel the strength in it, the quiet potential of speed hidden in that stoic expression.

“See?” Claude shouted over the wind whipping past them. “She reminds me of you!”

Byleth’s cheerful laugh was swallowed by the night sky.

They rode for what must have been an hour or more. The thrill of the country stretching below them distracted her from the goosebumps raised on her forearms where skin was exposed. Below she could see wild Almyran cows drowsing in wildflower fields, faraway but mighty blots. When she looked back up, she could see that the mountains she saw earlier were much closer. Many mistakenyl believed Almyra to be a land of desert and grassy plains, when in reality it boasted mountain ranges that stood as proud as its people.

The mountains that they soared towards were made up of smaller slopes all tumbling over each other in a gathering of hills. At the peak of the mountain she could see swaths of white painted across it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, so quietly that she was sure that Claude hadn’t heard her. But both of them had been idling in front of the alps for a while, and when she turned her head she saw that Claude was looking right at her. The expression on his face wasn’t the loud and knowing grin he wore around everyone else. It was a gentle smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened his eyebrows. “What?” she asked.

Claude shook his head, his smile melting into a smirk. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

They guided their wyverns so that they were gliding just above the ground. The first mass of hills grew larger and she could make out the sweeping mountain saddle after it. They coasted along and soon, they were touching down on that very same mountain saddle. Claude dismounted and Byleth followed suit, legs mildly wobbly and tingling from the ride. She took a moment to observe her surroundings. To their left were the gentle rolling hills and to their right, the larger mass of mountains yawned towards the sky. Wind combed through the sparse grass at their feet, gentle and seemingly contained within the small cocoon of calm that existed within the gap. The light from the moon cast sharp shadows down the larger mountain, jagged shapes of cliffs stretching down its face.

Byleth looked to Claude and he looked back at her. He held out his hand and she took it, deceptively delicate fingers weaving between his broader ones. They walked down a small path peppered with disc-like rocks. Behind them, both wyverns took flight and disappeared into the starscape.

“Are you going to tell me now?” she asked.

Claude snickered, “Almost there, By.”

She rolled her eyes but continued along. Eventually the path led to a small plateau, overlooking the lush mountain valley. The slope of the smaller hill they were on backed the flat area, a small protection from the light breeze. There was a small knit blanket already set up, large stones tamping down the corners. Several other smaller blankets were at the bottom, rolled up and tied tightly with twine. Right beside it was a circle of rocks surrounding wood logs and dried grass.

“Here,” Claude said, hand slipping from hers. “I’ll start the fire.”

Byleth had a distinct memory—no, _several_ memories—of Claude being in charge of fire duty during the war and the subsequent pathetic embers that burned. She brushed him off and crouched beside it, taking the flint that was already in his hands.

“Hey!” Claude protested.

Byleth cracked the flint against a rock, sparks cascading into the kindling. “You’re awful at this.” She leaned down and blew softly into the dry brush, embers snagging and beginning to glow. Smoke rose and small flames licked up the logs. “See?” She turned to look at him, only to find his gaze on her but lower, as searing as the fire that was growing in size.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You did this on purpose.”

Claude flashed a grin at her. “No clue what you’re talking about!”

“Well, now I know why you brought me out here,” Byleth sighed.

“Wait, no, that’s not why—”

“No?” Byleth turned back and fanned the fire more. “Oh. That’s disappointing.” Claude made some sort of undignified noise behind her and she finished stoking the fire, only sitting on the blanket with him when it began to crackle noisily.

He must have set this up hours ago, she figured, which only made her affection for him grow more. If that was even possible. She knew that Claude was perfectly capable of grand sweeping gestures; she knew that he could recite love poetry to her or declare her his (though they both knew she didn’t _belong_ to anyone) to everyone and anyone. But this? The soft surprise of a quaint evening together, the gentle intimacy of it…

She loved him so much.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her close to his side and guiding them down so that they were gazing at the stars. Claude was always warm, always radiating heat wherever he touched her.

She nuzzled close and peered up at the twinkling constellations that Claude was pointing at. They were familiar to her. “The Pleiades,” she said.

“Ah, yeah, that’s what they’re called in Fodlan. But in Almyra, we call them _Ulker_ .” His finger traced a path from one star to the next as he spoke. “It was apparently named after the phrase, _ülker çerig_ , for battle movements and routing enemies.”

Byleth squinted at the huddle of stars. She tilted her head a bit and— _ah_. “It looks like part of a tactician’s map.” Some stars were closer together than others—battalions—and most of them followed a general path. “Like a path towards the enemy. Battle formations.”

“Yeah.” Claude shifted and placed a kiss on the crown of her head. She felt it all the way to her toes.

The world around them was beginning to settle. Tensions between Fodlan’s bordering countries were lessening, wounds were healing, lives were continuing onwards. The fire beside them cast warmth over their bodies, gentle and comforting as they lie there gazing at the stars.

“Battle formations, huh?” Claude whispered.

“Hm?”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, right against her ear. “The world we’ve fought so hard for… imagine if these treaties crumbled.”

Byleth frowned. “That’s not happening.”

“How ever many generations it takes, it could be hundreds, thousands of years. But those kids aren’t gonna know how to fight. What war is like, y’know?” He chuckled again. “They’re screwed.”

Her frown deepened. She could hear the cracks in his humor, the facade she had long learned to see past giving way. Propping herself up on her elbow, she regarded him for a moment. He had that easygoing smile that everyone loved, that smile that hid his true feelings and made people not think anything of it.

“Claude,” she said softly.

Green eyes locked with her mint ones. The smile slid from his face. “What if—what if all of this was for nothing?”

Byleth shook her head. “It wasn’t,” she said.

“How could you know that?”

Byleth hummed, pushing herself up fully and moving so that she was seated comfortably in his lap. She cupped both of his cheeks with her hands and bumped their foreheads together. “Because,” she said, “all of that pain—the war, the losses, _everything_ —was not for nothing.”

He huffed out a shaky laugh and she felt it on her cheeks. “But if another war like that breaks out—”

“Then they will deal with it.” She pinched one of his cheeks before he could protest and smiled. “I’ve seen what terrible things war can do to people, but I’ve also seen the unity that follows because of it.”

Claude looked at her for a long moment, verdant green eyes scanning her face, searching for something. His eyes softened and his face eventually split into that genuine grin she loved so much. “When did you become the optimist?”

She pinched his cheek again. “I didn’t,” she stated plainly. “I just see what’s in front of me and move forward.”

His hand moved to cup her face and then rake through her hair. “How have I lived without you for so many years?”

Byleth snorted, “Without good campfires, apparently.” She cast her eyes around the small little plateau and then back to him. “Thank you for this.”

Claude laughed, soft and _real._ “I should be thanking you.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything.”

He tugged at a lock of her hair. “Because you’re you. The world should be thankful for you, Byleth.” He pulled her closer, lips grazing hers as he said, “I love you.”

“I know,” she said against his, and closed the distance between them.

They kissed messily, desperately, as if they were deprived of all air and the only way to get more was through each other’s lips. Claude sat up and Byleth remained seated in his lap, hands threading through his dark hair and pulling them chest to chest. Calloused fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt before slipping beneath it, smoothing against her hip bones and navel. A soft gasp escaped her lips, swallowed by Claude’s mouth moving against her own.

The night’s chill raised goosebumps on her arms as her thin jacket was removed, then her shirt. He mouthed at the juncture where neck met shoulder and worked at the clasps of her cropped bodice, skillful fingers freeing the garment from her within seconds. Remaining clothes were cast aside leaving them both bare to one another.

They tangled back together, heat spreading against bare skin where they touched, growing warm, warmer than the fire beside them and warmer than the hottest day in Almyra. They rocked against each other, connected everywhere they could be and panted into each other’s mouths.

“Claude,” she breathed like a prayer.

His hands dug into her hips and she clutched him closer, _closer,_ until one of those hands moved and traveled to the apex between her thighs and then further still until she felt a jolt up her spine and a sigh leave her lips.

It wasn’t long before her sighs turned to stifled cries, fingers grasping desperately at Claude’s shoulders as a wave of relief washed over her. Eventually, she stilled and eventually, so did Claude.

He began to say, “That was—”

“Yeah,” she answered, pulling back so she could see his face. Black pupils swallowed most of the green of his eyes and he was smiling, easy and sated and just for her.

They fell together onto the blanket, separating where necessary and clinging where unnecessary. He took one of the rolled blankets at their feet and wrapped it around both of them.

“We should get back before dawn,” he said, chest rumbling and warm where her face was tucked into it. “The guards may panic if they discover us missing.”

“Let them,” she yawned.

They laid there for hours, drowsing together and nearly falling asleep (but never all the way). Byleth cherished the way they fit together, two halves creating a cocoon of warmth and it was just for them.

As the last vestiges of night began to give way to the light of dawn, as both of them slowly disentangled and shrugged their clothes back on, she found herself gazing at Claude. Claude, who was not hers to have but was hers just the same. Claude, who let his careless front drop away in front of her, baring all of himself. Claude, who gave just as much as he took. Claude, her equal. Claude, her former student. Claude, King of Almyra and the man she was going to marry.

The blankets were rerolled and the wyverns were called from the sky. Byleth gazed at the valley in front of them, glowing with warm orange light from the sunrise and the promise of a new day, and committed the scene to memory. It would be a while before the two of them could share a moment like this alone. Soon the whole world would know of their intent to wed and their relationship would become something for people to scrutinize, judge.

It didn’t matter, really, because what they had still belonged to them.

“Byleth?” Claude asked as the wyverns landed on the plateau.

She turned to face him, a gentle smile finding its way onto her face and warming her from the inside out. “Ready to go?”

“I’ll go _anywhere_ with you,” he said.

Byleth’s smile fell, replaced by a blank stare. “That’s awful.”

“Isn’t it?” Claude said, almost gleeful. “But it’s true.”

She mounted her wyvern, shaking her head in fond exasperation. “I know,” she said.

They kicked off the ground and climbed into the sky, Almyra and a bright future their shared destination.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry chrysler, Ray (GD), from your local secret santa (and friend) <3.
> 
> Thank you so much Ray (BL), Art, Ashley, and Clarkie for looking this over and helping me out!
> 
> To all you fire emblem fuckers out there, thank you for letting me add to the pile. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/MegaSheeeep) usually crying about fire emblem or memes


End file.
